


Let me in

by IdontlikeIobsess



Series: Notes and Neighbors [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Food, Kisses, Late Nights, M/M, Notes, SO MUCH FLUFF, Single Parent!Stiles, doctor!derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3399776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdontlikeIobsess/pseuds/IdontlikeIobsess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is tired of being woken up at 4 AM every single night by the baby living next door. He could help, if only his neighbor would let him talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let me in

**Author's Note:**

> I kept thinking about scenarios with Stiles and Derek as neighbors, so I created a series which will be nothing but fluff! :D

Derek is woken up at 4 AM by a deafening wailing…again.

He rolls around in his sheets, burying his face under the pillow and trying to tune out the obnoxious sound. The wailing only gets louder though, and Derek sighs and stands up, reaching the dimly lighted hallway to knock on his neighbor’s door. Derek doesn’t really know him. He only knows his name—Stiles Stilinski—and that he has a son that enjoys crying when Derek is trying to sleep, but no wife or girlfriend. They’ve been living next to each other for a little over a year now—Derek lives in 4c and Stiles in 4b— but the guy always seems super busy when Derek sees him in their apartment building. He always has his son attached to his hip, a smiling, blonde boy with huge brown eyes. Derek would think of him as _adorable_ and _cute_ if only the baby let him sleep at night. Derek also knows that he finds Stiles incredibly hot—the hottest man he has ever seen—but he has no idea if Stiles is interested or ready for a relationship or if he has even registered Derek living in his same building. Stiles always looks distracted when Derek waves at him.

Stiles opens the door, his eyes bloodshot and a tentative patch of beard on his chin and cheeks. His hair is a complete mess and his clothes aren’t much better, dirty with baby-food and what seems like saliva.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Ricky woke you up, didn’t he? Oh god, I’m so fucking sorry, you have no idea. You probably have to work in the morning and it’s 4 AM now and Ricky can’t stop crying and I don’t even know why!” Stiles blurts out. “I tried everything, I swear…”

Stiles tries to cover his eyes with one hand, but Derek can see that his eyes are suddenly shiny with repressed tears. His mouth twists and Stiles brings a hand to his hair, pulling a little. “I’ll try to calm him down,” he says, his voice wavering. “I’m sorry, really.”

Stiles slams the door shut and Derek is left standing in the hallway. The guy didn’t even let him _say a word_.

 

*

 

Derek knocks on Stiles’ door again the next morning, but no one answers. He knows Stiles is in there—he hears Rick crying—but the door stays closed even when Derek tries knocking a second time. Fine, if Stiles doesn’t want to talk to him, he’ll just leave a note under his door.

Derek strides into his apartment again and grabs a piece of paper and a pen, sitting down at his desk to think about what he might say without scaring Stiles off.

 

**Stiles,**

**I didn’t mean to make you upset last night. I didn’t want to complain about your son crying—I just wanted to ask you if you wanted me to visit him. I’m a doctor, and maybe your son keeps crying because he’s sick? Have you checked his temperature? Or maybe his teeth.**

**If you need anything, you know where to find me.**

**Derek Hale.**

He slips the note under Stiles’ door before he takes the elevator and goes to work.

 

*

 

Stiles never answers him, but Derek is pleased to notice that the wailing in the middle of the night stops the next day. Derek thinks that maybe he was right, Rick was actually sick and Stiles must have taken him to some other doctor. Derek doesn’t have children, but he has five nephews and he knows they can be unreasonable sometimes.

Maybe Stiles is just exhausted because he has to take care of his son all by himself? Does he work somewhere? Derek has heard Rick cry at every time of the day, and he was pretty sure Stiles was with him every single time. He worries that maybe Stiles isn’t getting enough sleep or he can’t have some time off to do something just for himself, and a sudden idea forms in Derek’s mind.

He opens the fridge and grabs the huge bowl of pasta his sister has left the day before, when she had came over with her children. Derek wraps it with a sheet of tinfoil and walks outside of his apartment, knocking on Stiles’ door and hoping for the best.

This time Stiles opens. His eyes are no longer bloodshot, but his clothes and hair are still a mess. When he sees Derek holding the bowl of pasta he takes a step back, bringing his hands to his face.

“Is that—is that for me?” Stiles asks. Before Derek can even nod or say a simple _yes,_ Stiles is talking again. “Oh my god, you must think I’m a terrible parent. You must think I don’t have the time to cook a proper meal, so you’re bringing me this!” Just like the time before, Stiles’ eyes start watering and his mouth becomes a thin line of sadness. He grabs the door and slams it shut, leaving Derek alone in the hallway once again. Then, Stiles re-opens the door, grabs the bowl in Derek’s hand and shuts the door closed.

 

*

 

**I don’t think you’re a terrible parent, Stiles. If you’d just let me talk for once, you would know. My sister cooked the pasta for me and I just thought I’d share it with you since you seem pretty busy with Rick all the time.**

**I just thought I could help.**

 

*

 

Stiles doesn’t answer his note, but he leaves the cleaned out bowl outside Derek’s door two days later. There’s a bright pink post-it that says _thank you!_ in big, messy letters, and Derek sticks it to his fridge without thinking too much about why two simple words from Stiles make his heart go crazy in his chest. Derek is so caught up with Stiles’ mysterious life by the end of the week that he calls Laura on Saturday and begs her to cook her famous lasagna.

“You’ve been bragging about your lasagna for years, Laura,” Derek sighs. “Please, I really need it.”

“I won’t cook until you tell me _why_ you need it so much,” Laura says. “Is there something you should tell me, little bro?”

“There’s nothing to tell. I just need lasagna, okay?”

Laura hums. “Fine. I’m letting this go. Just this once, though. You can come and take your precious lasagna at 6.”

Derek sighs in relief. “Thank you, Laura. You’re a life saver, really.”

Derek whistles happily the whole day, until he has to meet his sister’s questioning glare at least. He manages to avoid her questions again and he drives back to his place. He looks for a sharpie and a post-it and sticks it to the still hot tray of lasagna.

**Hope you enjoy** , it says. **My sister always makes too much food**.

He puts the tray in front of Stiles’ door and then knocks, running back inside his apartment. He’s not sure Still will be happy to see him—not after Derek tried to talk to him twice and Stiles ended up crying both times—but he appreciated the food, that’s for sure.

Derek sits on his couch and turns on the tv, wondering if Stiles is enjoying the lasagna.

 

*

 

Derek wakes up Sunday morning and the first thing he notices right after the fact that he forgot to turn the tv off, is a little piece of paper under his door.

 

_I swear I’m not always like this. I mean, I’m not always crying or freaking out because my son can’t sleep. Actually, I’m a pretty happy and easy-going person, but lately I’m just having a rough time. I’m sorry if I acted like a jerk. Thank you for the food, though, Ricky loved it._

_P.s. I loved it, too._

Derek’s heart leaps in his chest. He must have done something right after all, because he’s holding a note written by Stiles in his hands. Not an angry note telling him to stop leaving food outside his door or an annoyed note telling him to just mind his own business, but a thank you note. Derek wants to run outside his apartment and knock on Stiles’ door, give him one long, deep kiss and tell him everything is going to be fine, but then he remembers that Stiles has just opened himself a little to Derek, so he shouldn’t be forcing him. He also remembers that Stiles has a son—a baby—and Ricky is obviously Stiles’ number one priority, so Derek can’t just invite himself over whenever he wants or ask Stiles out on a date whenever he feels like it.

He has to think this through. Maybe if they stick to the little notes under each other’s door Stiles would feel more comfortable? Derek hopes so. He turns Stiles’ piece of paper over and grabs a pen to write down his response.

**Stiles, you don’t have to apologize. I’m sure dealing with a baby isn’t an easy job and Ricky deserves your whole attention. I was thinking…what if I gave you some time to get back on track? I believe you when you say you’re an happy person.**

**P.s. I still want to talk to you, though. So maybe we could write to each other?**

Derek pushes the note under Stiles’ door and then goes to work, hoping to find a new piece of paper under his door when he gets back.

 

*

 

_I’d love writing to you! Oh my god, I never wrote notes to anyone. It seems very old-fashioned and secretive to me. Like we’re in some sort of secret relationship and we have to hide these little notes for each other. Except we’re not in a secret relationship and we’re not hiding from anyone. Well, it still looks really cool to me._

_So, Dr. Hale, what do you want to tell me about your life? I’m really interested, if you know what I mean._

*

**Well, you already know the most important things. I’m a doctor and I have a very loud and noisy older sister who loves torturing me and leaving me to babysit her children. I have five nephews, so it can be pretty messy sometimes. What about you? I know about Rick, of course, but I have to say you have a very mysterious life. Do you ever leave your apartment? ~~I would love to take you on a date, when you have time.~~**

**Take care of yourself, Stiles.**

 

*

_I work from home so you’re right, I barely leave my apartment. Sometimes Ricky spends the day at my friend Scott’s house, though. Scott has a three years old daughter, and I’m pretty sure she’s in love with my little boy. I could go out and be an adult when Ricky is with them, but I’m so fucking exhausted that I just sleep the whole day._

_I’m a mess._

 

*

**You shouldn’t think about yourself in that way. You’re a great father and it’s okay to take a little time for yourself when Ricky isn’t around. ~~Maybe I could take you out sometimes?~~ If you want to talk when Ricky is at Scott’s, you can always knock on my door. I’d love to talk to you.**

 

*

 

 Just like so many weeks before, Derek wakes up at four in the morning disturbed by a piercing wailing from the apartment next door. He rolls off the bed and he makes his way to Stiles’ door, wearing his oldest sweatpants and a worn-out t-shirt. When he opens the door, Stiles looks as crazy as a wild animal forced into a tiny cage in a zoo, his hair sticking up in every direction and his face so tired that he seems like he’s sleep-walking. Stiles takes a few seconds to realize that Derek is standing right in front of him, but this time, when he tries to slam the door shut, Derek stops it with his foot.

“Please,” Derek whispers. “Let me help.”

“Derek, it’s fucking four in the morning. You should be sleeping,” Stiles says. Then he slaps a hand to his mouth. “Oh my god, you can’t sleep, can you? Ricky is keeping you up. I’m so sorry, Derek, I’m so—”

“Stop it,” Derek says. He puts a reassuring hand on Stiles’ arm. “Please? Can I come in for a second? I can try to calm him down.”

Stiles hesitates on the threshold. He fidgets and plays with his dirty shirt before he takes a step back and lets Derek in. “Ricky is super pissed off right now. You were right, it’s his teeth, but I don’t know what to do! I tried everything!”

“Okay, okay, let’s see him,” Derek says.

They walk into a small bedroom with light-blue walls, full of toys and far tidier that the rest of the house. Ricky is in his crib, screaming at the top of his lungs. His face is purple and he is shaking his little fists in the air. Derek shoots a questioning glare at Stiles, and when Stiles nods Derek picks the baby up, hoisting him up against his chest. Ricky screams louder and pushes his hands against Derek’s shirt, fisting the material and leaving wet spots all over Derek’s clothes.

That is, until one of Ricky’s hands accidentally touches Derek’s beard and he silences abruptly, almost as if someone has turned a switch off. Ricky frowns, pushing his hands deeper in Derek’s short beard and letting out a little happy noise.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, wide-eyed and shocked. “He likes your beard. No, no, that’s not right. He _loves_ your beard! He—he’s not crying anymore.” Derek turns and notices that Stiles’ eyes are shiny with tears—again.

“No, I’m not going to cry,” Stiles swears. He wipes away a few tears and looks at Derek again. “It’s just—you’re incredible, Derek. I mean it.”

Derek smiles down at Ricky and pushes his face towards the baby’s little hands. “Go take a shower,” he says. “Get changed, you’re starting to smell. I’ll take care of Ricky.”

“Oh, thank you, this is just what I wanted to hear,” Stiles grumbles. He shoots a last look at his son before he disappears into the apartment. Derek waits until he hears the water running and then walks to the couch, sitting down with Ricky sprawled on his chest.

“We’re going to let your daddy rest for a while. Okay, big guy?” Derek asks, stroking Ricky’s blonde hair. The boy hiccups once and then gurgles, laughing when his hands find Derek’s beard again. “He loves you, but he needs to sleep.”

Derek lowers himself on the couch and puts one arm across Ricky’s back to keep him in place. The baby has one hand on Derek’s cheek and his head buried under Derek’s chin, and now he looks happy and relaxed and ready to sleep.

Derek glances outside the window. The sun is almost raising outside, so he lets himself close his eyes for just a second before Stiles comes back from his shower. The next thing he knows, it’s eleven AM and he wakes up to the sight of Stiles sleeping in a fetal position on the other end of the couch, his legs intertwined with Derek’s. Ricky is still sleeping on his chest, but he’s starting to move around so Derek knows that he’s about to wake up. Carefully, he disentangles his legs from Stiles’ and sits up on the couch, moving Ricky along with his body. Derek makes breakfast with Stiles’ son still asleep on his shoulder, snoring a little in unison with his dad.

Stiles wakes up to the smell of coffee. “Derek,” he says. “I’m so sorry. I made you sleep the whole night on the couch.”

“Stop apologizing every time,” Derek says. “I asked you to let me in the other night. There’s no need to be sorry. Here,” he says, letting Stiles take Ricky.

“I can’t believe he’s still sleeping,” Stiles says. “He wakes me up at six every morning, even if he doesn’t sleep at night. I don’t know how he does it.”

“He was probably exhausted,” Derek says. “He couldn’t sleep because of his teeth, so he was tired and in pain. Did you give him something to chew on?”

“Yes, but he keeps quiet for a while and then starts crying again,” Stiles explains.

“You just have to wait until his teeth are out,” Derek says. “There’s not really anything you can do.”

Stiles strokes Ricky’s back with one hand. “Fantastic,” he says. “More sleepless night.”

They eat breakfast together and, for the first time since they met, Stiles has no problems talking the entire time, telling Derek about his life and friends and all the things he did when he was at school. Stiles tells him about Ricky’s mum—a girl who Stiles dated for a while but didn’t want anything to do with the baby—and about the fears and hopes he has for his son.

“I’m terrified I’m not enough for him, you know? I’m worried I’m not giving him everything he needs because I don’t know how to be a normal parent. My dad lives far away, so it’s not like he can help me with Ricky,” Stiles sighs. “Sometimes I just wish he was, like, eighteen already. You know, kind of independent and not crying anymore.”

Derek smiles. “I think you’ll worry about him even when he’ll turn forty.”

Ricky wakes up then, interrupting their quiet, adult conversation in the bright morning light. Derek waits to see if Stiles needs help, but when he makes sure that everything is okay he waves at Stiles and runs back to his apartment, grabbing all the thing he needs for his shift at the hospital.

 

*

_I’m such a gigantic jerk! I didn’t even thank you for all you did for me last night. I can’t even think of a credible excuse, so I’ll just say I’m a moron. I can cook you a decent dinner if you stop by after work—or maybe I’ll just order pizza._

_P.s. Ricky misses your beard. He’s been good all day, but he’s starting to throw his toys at me. Bad sign._

 

*

 

Derek knocks on Stiles’ door when he comes back from his shift. It’s too late for the dinner Stiles promised him, but he wants to knows how Stiles is doing before he goes to bed.

“Is everything okay?” he asks when Stiles opens the door, Ricky on his hip. The baby throws himself at Derek and buries his hands in Derek’s beard.

“It is now,” Stiles sighs. He steps away to let Derek in, guiding him into the living room. “He’s not crying, but he can’t fall asleep. Do you think that maybe you could—”

“Stiles,” Derek whispers. “Look at your son.”

Ricky’s eyes are already half-closed and his little fists are losing their grip on Derek’s shirt. The baby nuzzles his face into Derek’s neck and then he falls asleep without any second thoughts.

“He was waiting for you?” Stiles asks. “He needs your beard to fall asleep? Hey, it’s not my fault I can’t grow a decent beard!”

Stiles takes Ricky from Derek’s arms and puts him in his crib. “Little traitor,” he whispers as he tucks his son in. “You’re already so smart. Derek’s beard really is something beautiful.”

Derek waits until Stiles closes the door and then he takes Stiles’ hand, bringing it to his chest. Derek steps closer and pushes Stiles up against the wall, bracketing Stiles’ head with his hands. Stiles smiles at him, a shy, little movement that turns his lips up.

“Derek,” he says. “Are you sure you want to do this? I—I’m not the best person to be around right now. I have a son and I have no social life and I’m sure you don’t want to be with a boring person.”

“Bullshit,” Derek says, leaning closer to Stiles. “I’ve had a crush on you since the first time I saw you. Can I—can I kiss you? Just one kiss, I swear.”

Stiles nods, looking Derek straight in the eyes and pulling him closer to his body. Derek doesn’t waste time. He closes the distance between his and Stiles’ mouth and brushes their lips together, tasting Stiles for the first time. When Stiles tightens his hold on Derek’s hips, Derek kisses him deep and long until Stiles can’t breathe anymore and has to break the kiss. Derek drops a last kiss on the tender skin of Stiles’ neck before he pulls away a little.

“I’m sure about this, Stiles,” Derek says. “Are you?”

Stiles presses himself against Derek’s body and kisses him again. “Yes, absolutely. I’m so damn sure.”

 

*

 

Derek knocks on Stiles' door, but then he looks down and notices a piece of paper just beside his feet.

_We’re waiting for you in your kitchen, Der. Surprise! Come find us!_

Derek steps into his apartment, following Ricky’s happy yelps from the kitchen. Stiles has his son balanced on his hip, talking and laughing with him as he checks the oven.

“Derek!” Stiles says. “Sorry I just let myself in, but I needed an oven and mine isn’t working. I wanted to make a cake, you know, because today—”

“Because today is Ricky’s birthday,” Derek says.

“You remembered!”

“Of course. I bought him a present,” Derek says. He takes the baby from Stiles’ arms and waits until Ricky stops playing with the short hair of his beard. He walks to the living room and grabs the dolphin plush he bought a few weeks ago in one of the shops near the hospital.

“Ricky, look!” Stiles says. “Dolphins are your favorite!”

Ricky grabs the dolphin and puts it in his mouth, chewing happily on it.

“Well, at least he likes it,” Derek smiles.

Derek spends the night watching Stiles and Ricky play with the half-burned cake Stiles managed to cook. He feels so comfortable, so at ease, that he has to stop himself from asking Stiles to stay the night and curl up with him on the bed. Ricky is already falling asleep on Stiles’ shoulder though, and Stiles is blinking his eyes open to stay awake a few more minutes, grabbing all his things from Derek’s apartment.

“Thank you for the present,” Stiles says, stepping closer to Derek to drop a light kiss on his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Derek says, watching as Stiles and Ricky walk into their apartment. He waves at them and closes his door, a silly smile on his lips.

 

*

 

 “Are you falling asleep on me?” Derek asks, smirking down at Stiles.

They’re curled up on Derek’s bed, chest to chest, looking at each other in the eyes. If Derek could grab his old Polaroid and take a picture of this moment without breaking the magic of it, he would.

“Your bed is so soft,” Stiles yawns, shuffling even closer to Derek. “Do you think Ricky is okay?”

“Stiles, he’s sleeping in the guest bedroom.”

Stiles nods. “We shouldn’t waste time, then,” he says. “We should—”

He stops when a big yawn forces his mouth open. Derek smiles and passes a hand through Stiles’ hair just to feel him shiver under his touch. “You should sleep,” he says.

“Maybe you’re right,” Stiles says. “But—what about what you promised me?”

“I’m giving you the massage tomorrow,” Derek promises. “Your shoulders look like they’re going to implode. Only if you wake up early, though.”

Stiles hums. “ You’re playing dirty, aren’t you? Well, if _you_ wake up early tomorrow, I’m going to show you that I’m not so innocent as I look tonight. If you decide to _stay_ tomorrow morning, I’ll show you I’m not the kind of person who cries every day,” Stiles says.

“So many things to do tomorrow,” Derek whispers. “Can’t wait.”

He drops one last kiss on the top of Stiles’ head and then they both fall asleep.

 

*

 

When Ricky wakes up at four AM, Derek walks blindly to his room and hoists him up, pulling the baby to his chest. Ricky automatically buries his hands into Derek’s beard, sighing when he finds the soft hair. Derek brings the baby to his bedroom and places him in the middle of the mattress, between his and Stiles’ body. Stiles blinks one eye open and gives Derek a lopsided smile, yawning as Ricky kicks his legs around.

When Derek wakes up again, there’s a Polaroid of him and Ricky sleeping together hanging on the wall. Stiles has left a post-it beside the photo.

 

_I put Ricky back in the guest room. I’d say we can start our morning activities._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
